


Search

by dmrobb (october1)



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Dragons, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Social Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 08:18:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16404722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/october1/pseuds/dmrobb
Summary: While on Search, brownrider J'rren discovers an unlikely Candidate.





	Search

**Author's Note:**

> One thing that bothered me about the novels was that there was never any explanation as to what becomes of children born to drudges. As we know from our world, kids do happen, regardless of class or socioeconomic status, so such children had to exist on Pern. I decided to explore this a bit in my fic.

_J’rren, we have found her,_ Fereth announced as I was finishing up the midday meal in Ruatha Hold’s great dining hall where I was an honored guest. My brown dragon’s voice tingled through my mind, filling me with warmth. 

_You have?_ I glanced at my table companions. Lord Dalven, the widowed Lord Holder, sat directly across from me. He was a short, burly man with small icy eyes. He was joined by his eldest son Randel and daughter Catha. Both these offspring, in their late teens, had Dalven’s black hair and pale eyes but were tall and slender, certainly taking after their mother or some other relative. _Is she one of Lord Dalven’s children?_ I stiffened in anticipation to Fereth’s answer. Lord Dalven was adamant that at least one of his children be selected on Search. As of yet, there was no Candidate from Ruatha to stand at the Hatching of the gold queen Lilth’s latest clutch. 

_No. She just stepped outside onto the west terrace._

I turned to bluerider C’enen, who had joined me on this Search. His wide gray eyes held a distant look, revealing that he, too, was communicating with Prilith, his dragon. After a moment, he turned to me and nodded.

We excused ourselves from the table and hurried out onto the terrace that our dragons had indicated. They were perched on the heights of the nearby hills, their glossy hides reflecting the springtime sunlight, their jeweled eyes whirling with multiple hues. Both were crooning, a rich, musical sound. 

“Excuse me,” said a soft voice behind me. “Are those your dragons? I’ve never seen any this close before.”

I turned. A girl who looked to be in her teens but was small enough to still be a child stood a short distance away, her wide-eyed gaze darting between us and our dragons. She held a broom in one hand and was wearing a plain, threadbare tunic. Her thick, dark hair was short, cropped into sloppy layers. 

“Her?” C’enen gasped in disbelief. “Impossible! She’s only a kitchen drudge.”

I felt a twinge of anger in my chest at his words. C’enen, having been weyrbred, had been instilled with certain expectations as to what kinds of people would make good Candidates. But I had been raised in a small, farming cothold with seven siblings. Father was a farmer and Mother had labored for a time as a drudge at Fort Hold before their espousal. True, she hadn’t been very intelligent but she worked hard to keep us all clothed and fed. She also had had a pleasant, albeit untrained, singing voice and often hummed as she went about her duties. I’d always had the greatest respect for her. She had died giving birth to my youngest siblings, the twins Timbrin and Giselle. 

But I was lucky. Father wanted us to be educated so I was fostered out shortly after and eventually sent to Harper Hall to begin an apprenticeship as an archivist. It was at that Hall where I was discovered on the Search that led to my Impression of Fereth. 

“That doesn’t matter, C’enen,” I said, struggling to keep the anger out of my voice. “It’s up to the dragons to decide, not us. My Fereth sees something in her that most humans can’t. It’s not our place to judge.” 

The young drudge cocked her head and put down her broom. “You’re on Search, aren’t you? Have you found anyone yet?”

I couldn’t control the grin that stretched across my face. “Well, yes. As a matter of fact, it’s you.”

She stumbled back in shock.

I held a hand out to her. “I am J’rren, rider of brown Fereth, and this is C’enen, blue Prilith’s rider.” C’enen nodded to her. “What is your name?”

“Nerathea,” the girl said, stepping forward and grabbing my outstretched hand. Her small hand was rough and callused, her knuckles reddened from scrubbing. “But most people call me Nery.” 

She lifted her head but couldn’t meet my gaze. Although Nery’s face was smeared with soot, I could tell she was fairly attractive with a dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose. Her large eyes were a light yet brilliant green. But there was something just below her left eye that was more than just grime. It looked like a bruise. 

“What happened there?” I asked, indicating the bruise as C’enen raced away to inform Lord Dalven. 

Nery’s slight body stiffened. “Cook caught me stealing bubbly pies.” Her voice was low and bitter. “I didn’t even eat them. There were others who needed them more than me.”

I struggled to stifle the anger that had been triggered by C’enen’s offhanded comment. There were places on Pern where the drudges were treated merely as work objects and often abused and underfed, yet no one ever seemed to care. Perhaps I was more sensitive to this issue than most since Mother had been one. A part of me wanted to thrash that cook. 

“Please, sir, don’t be angry. It’s really nothing.” Her eyes were pleading.

“It _is_ something,” I caught myself saying. Nery gaped up at me. “Such treatment wouldn’t be tolerated at Ista Weyr. You deserve the same amount of respect as any other girl.”

Nery’s eyes widened in shock as if I’d suddenly lapsed into gibberish. 

“So, you’ve found a Candidate.” I nearly started at the sound of Lord Dalven’s eager voice. He took great strides with his short legs. C’enen, who was practically Dalven’s height but much slenderer, closely followed him. “Just one? Who is it?” 

“Nery,” I said, gently pulling her forward. She tensed noticeably as Lord Dalven briefly appraised her before he tossed his head back and laughed.

“Her? She looks like one of my drudges. I didn’t know that dragonriders played practical jokes on people. Who is it really? Please say Catha. My daughter talked about the upcoming Search to my Hold for several sevendays. I think she’d make an excellent Weyrwoman.” 

I took a deep breath and was grateful when C’enen spoke. I was certain that I’d blurt out something I’d regret had I done so. 

“My lord, the dragons have selected Nery,” he said. “I questioned it myself but my Prilith insists that she is the one. The dragons are never wrong in these matters.”

Lord Dalven frowned and his face took on a burning red flush. “This is impossible! How can you choose this—this halfwit over my children?”

“She’s not a halfwit.” I could tell that my tone betrayed my anger but, at this point, I didn’t care. “The dragons have touched her mind and found her worthy of the Search. You must accept it.” 

Lord Dalven breathed deeply as he glared at Nery. I saw her stiffen. 

_No,_ I heard Fereth say, but he wasn’t speaking to me. His attention was focused on Nery. She looked up toward him. Fereth was staring directly at her, his eyes whirling with gentle shades of blue and green. _Our decision is final. You are the one we selected._

“Fine!” I fought to hide my amusement at Lord Dalven’s poorly concealed rage. “Take her. I can always find another drudge. They are easily replaceable.” 

He turned on his heel and strode back inside, his boots stomping against the flagstones. C’enen followed to offer whatever comfort he could. 

“It’s true, then?” Nery’s voice held a hint of skepticism, as if she feared this might be a terrible joke. “The dragons have selected me? I heard them speak to me but this is impossible. They _never_ choose drudges. I’ve been told—” 

“Forget what you’ve been told.” I bent down and placed a hand on her shoulder. “The dragons are never wrong.” 

Nery’s eyes brightened. 

“When you’re ready, we’ll take you to Ista Weyr, where you will prepare for the Hatching,” I continued. My thoughts turned to headwoman Felina. If there was one thing she loved to do, it was fussing over the female Candidates and weyrlings, fixing their hair and garbing them in lovely dresses. She would have fun with Nery, who could certainly use some much-needed pampering. “You will learn what your duties as a weyrling would require should you Impress: how to bathe, feed, and care for your dragon. You will also be invited onto the Hatching Ground with the other Candidates beforehand to get adjusted to the hot sands and acquaint yourself with the eggs.”

A look of sadness crossed Nery’s face and her shoulders slumped. Wisps of tousled hair tumbled over her eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” I placed a hand beneath her chin and lifted her face. “This should be an exciting time for you.” 

“It is.” She forced a smile but tears glistened in her eyes. “It’s just that . . . I wish Mother was still here, that she could come with me.”

My heart clenched. 

“Your mother. . . ?” My words came out slow, cautious. 

A stray tear trailed down Nery’s cheek. She rubbed it away with the heel of her hand, smearing the soot on her face even more. 

“She died.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “A few months ago, during winter when the fevers swept through Ruatha Hold.”

I remembered that, how Ruatha had been quarantined and we’d all been told to stay away.

“The healers were overworked, with too many patients to tend to and some even got sick themselves. But Mother was just a drudge and low priority. Several people survived but she . . . she. . . ”

Nery bit her lip and blinked rapidly, as if struggling to hold back more tears. I placed an arm around her shoulders and led her to a nearby bench where we sat side by side. 

“I’m sorry, Nery.” I tightly held her hand. “And I understand. My mother was also a drudge and she, too, is dead.”

Nery looked up and studied my face with her wet eyes, as if she were trying to determine whether I was speaking the truth. 

“And yet you became a dragonrider.”

“That’s true.” I felt Fereth’s comforting presence press against my mind. “Do you have any other family, Nery?”

“Not really. Just the other drudges. We all look after one another since . . . ” Her voice trailed off but I could guess what she was going to say. _No one else will._

“What about your father?” I pressed, wondering if I should pry. Was it really my business? 

“I never knew him. All I know is that Mother met him at a Gather and they . . .” She blushed. “It was brief and he disappeared after that, probably went back to his own Hold or cothold.” 

My mind churned and the anger I’d felt earlier returned. 

“How old are you, Nery?”

“Thirteen.” 

She was at an age where she should already have been apprenticed to a Craft or Hall. Why hadn’t she been? She seemed intelligent enough.

“Did you ever attend lessons with the Hold harper? Can you read?”

Nery shrugged. “I can read just a little. Whenever I could, I made it a point to scrub and clean near where the lessons were taught so I caught a few things.”

“But you never attended the classes formally, as a student?” Heat touched my face. My anger was rising and I struggled to push it back. 

Nery shook her head. “Mother, while she loved me and took care of me as best she could . . . Well, she wasn’t very bright so it was assumed I wasn’t either.”

It took a great effort for me not to march right back into the Hold and confront Lord Dalven about this injustice. I had been fortunate but this happened far too often on Pern. Too often the offspring of drudges became drudges themselves, condemned to that fate from birth, and Nery was no exception. 

I drew in a deep breath. “Well, that will change. Fereth and Prilith have seen something in you that others have obviously overlooked. Even if you don’t Impress, you will stay on in the Weyr and attend lessons with the weyrbred children.” Nery blinked at me as if she couldn’t believe what I was saying. “Do you have any skills or talents?” 

A faint smile played across her lips. “Sometimes at night, I tell stories to the young children when they can’t sleep. But often that just gets them more excited.”

My thoughts churned. Perhaps she would make a good harper. But there were some criteria that came with that particular craft. “Can you sing? Have you ever played a musical instrument?” 

“I’ve never been allowed near the instruments but I like to sing, usually to myself. I’ve memorized all the Teaching Ballads I’ve overheard.”

She sang one to me. Her voice was soft and a bit shaky but it wasn’t bad. With some training, she’d make a fine singer. 

“But I also thought about becoming a healer. If I’d known what to do, Mother wouldn’t have had to die.” Tears once again touched her eyes. 

“It is good you have options, Nery, and a shame your talents weren’t acknowledged sooner. As it is, once you come to the Weyr, you will first be learning the basics with children much younger than yourself. It is important that you learn those. If you do Impress, you will have those lessons in addition to caring for your dragon, weyrling duties, and training. Due to your late start, you will have to work harder than the others. Is that understood?”

“Yes. I am used to working hard.” Nery held up her callused hands. 

“That’s good because much will be expected of you from now on. If you fail to Impress, you will still attend lessons and eventually be sent to either Harper Hall or Healer Hall for training, if you so desire, depending on where your aptitude is the strongest.”

“Really?” A wide smile stretched across her face. “Then other drudge children will have these chances?”

“We’ll make sure of it. We should—”

_The Hatching!_ interrupted Fereth’s urgent voice. _It’s starting!_ Both he and Prilith began to croon, a sound that echoed against the high walls of the Hold. 

“Shards!” Frustrated, I scrambled to my feet and kicked at the ground. How could this be? I was hoping Nery would at least have a few days to acclimate to the Weyr and prepare. But there was nothing that could be done now. We’d get her to Ista as quickly as we could and hope Felina could do _something_ with her before she stepped out onto the sands. 

I turned to Nery. “The Hatching is starting. Come on. We must get you to Ista Weyr. We’ll come back for your belongings later. Have you ever ridden a-dragonback before?” I knew it was a stupid question but I still had to ask. 

“No.” A gleam of excitement mixed with melancholy touched her eyes. At least she wasn’t afraid, like so many people Fereth and I have transported had been. Yes, she would make a good dragonrider. . . 

I hoisted her onto Fereth’s foreleg, helped her crawl up the side and secured her with the riding straps before I did likewise for myself. The familiar thrill of flight filled me as Fereth took to the air. Below I could see C’enen racing to climb aboard Prilith. He never missed a Hatching. 

“In a few minutes we will be going _between,_ ” I said, almost expecting the usual gasp of terror. “It is frightening at first for everyone but don’t worry. Fereth and I know our coordinates. You will feel nothing for three seconds and then we will arrive at Ista.” Nery merely nodded, her face set in anticipation. Moments later we were engulfed by that now-familiar chill nothingness. One. . . two. . . three. . . I slowly counted, just before we emerged in the warm springtime sunlight over Ista Weyr. The rich blue waters of the sea stretched far beyond. 

Fereth landed in the vast bowl and I helped Nery to dismount, then grabbed her hand and hurried her to the Weyr’s entrance. As we raced down the glow-lit passageway, the urgent thrumming of multiple dragons throbbed around us. 

“Good luck to you, Nery,” I whispered as I handed her over to Felina. The girl was in good hands. 

I made my way to the rapidly filling stands that looked out onto the Hatching Ground. Fereth joined the other dragons on the ledge overlooking it, his crooning joining with theirs, filling the entire cavern with that eerie, wordless song. The white-robed Candidates were making their way toward the large rocking eggs that scattered the sands. The boys and girls walked smartly, picking up their bare feet. I smiled, recalling my own experience on the sands, my frustration over having to be out there barefoot suddenly overpowered by nerves and hope. I looked toward Fereth and smiled as a warm feeling filled me. Ever since that day, his mind has always been a part of mine.

Three girl Candidates formed a semi-circle around the queen egg that was guarded by Lilth, Ista’s great queen dragon. Audina, the Weyrwoman, sat in a stand above her. The woman’s angular face was set in lines of quiet dignity. I continued to search for Nery. She would be the fourth girl, a Candidate for the queen egg. 

I swallowed and my hands felt suddenly clammy. I almost laughed as I wiped my sweaty palms onto my wherhide trousers. I was as nervous as a Candidate! 

Moments later, Nery scurried onto the Hatching Grounds, hopping from foot to foot as she made her way toward the queen egg. Good. At least Felina had instructed her as to where to go. Still, that knowledge did little to sooth the lump sitting in my stomach. Nery’s hair looked as if it had been hastily brushed but it still floated around her head in a wild array. Her face was clean, which made the bruise under her eye even more prominent. There had obviously been no time to find her a decent fitting robe. Hers was too long and loose; she continued to trip on it in her haste. Frustration filled me. Candidates were supposed to be presentable! But had she taken more time to get ready, she might have missed the Hatching. 

_Don’t worry,_ came Fereth’s soothing tone. _I have a good feeling about that girl. She will Impress today._

Although I trusted Fereth with my life, I still found his encouraging words difficult to believe as I looked at the other female Candidates. Two, Brilla and Pedra, having been weyrbred, had been around dragons their entire lives. Their parents were dragonriders. True, queen dragons often chose Hold girls but wasn’t their heritage still an advantage? Jaya had been an apprentice in the Weaver Craft Hall when she was Searched a few days ago. What chance did Nery, born of a drudge mother, have on the Hatching Grounds? 

I swallowed back my doubts as the eggs began to rock more fiercely. A loud popping sound came from a mottled egg that was jagged with cracks. Moments later a gleaming bronze dragonet spilled out. A bronze! It was traditionally a good omen for a bronze to hatch first. Perhaps this would turn out to be an auspicious day!

The little creature unfurled its damp wings as it pushed its way through the crowd of hopeful boys. It stopped before Berayan, the son of Audina and Weyrleader R’nele, and gazed into his eyes. 

As soon as I saw the boy’s eager smile and tears, I knew Impression had been made. “His name is Bareth!” he exclaimed in a trembling voice.

I felt tears spill onto my own cheeks as I remembered how I’d first looked into Fereth’s whirling, crystalline eyes and knew I’d found my lifelong companion. 

My musings were interrupted as more eggs cracked, releasing their hatchlings. The boys scrambled everywhere, cheers going up from the watching crowd every time one Impressed. But silence filled the entire cavern as the shell of the queen egg finally broke, splitting down the middle with a loud cracking sound. The small dragonet awkwardly emerged, her slick hide gleaming a deep gold. My eyes immediately went to Nery. She stood her ground but was jostled as the other girls pushed forward, hoping to catch the queen’s glowing, whirling eyes. 

Please. . . choose Nery! I thought, practically willing the little queen to make that choice. The gold dragonet wobbled toward her on unsteady legs. I felt a surge in my chest. Could it be…?

A sudden sharp keening drew my attention away from the queen and the girls. The mass of boy Candidates remaining on the sands stumbled about, hoping to capture the attention of the few remaining dragonets, mostly blues and greens. One of them, a small blue, had caught his wingtip on his claw and stumbled to the sands. His wails echoed against the high walls, his eyes spun a distressed red. The boys stood back, looking at one another, not sure what to do. 

Nery gasped and, turning from the queen, hurried toward the blue, with the hem of her robe bunched in her fist so she wouldn’t trip. 

“No, Nery!” I gasped through my teeth. “The queen could have chosen you.”

She dropped to her knees beside the dragonet. I gulped. What if he clawed her, or worse? Didn’t Felina warn her that newly hatched dragonets could be unpredictable and unwittingly injure even well-meaning Candidates? I rose and began to make my way down the steps. 

“It’s okay,” Nery soothed, gingerly unhooking the claw and lifting the diaphanous wing to inspect it. Breathless silence filled the cavern for a brief second. I stopped and practically gaped. “Your wing looks fine.” 

The creature lifted his head, his whirling eyes shifting to a calm blue-green. 

I held my breath. Was that Impression? Greens on rare occasions Impressed girls. But could a blue? I supposed it wasn’t unheard of. 

A brief surge of elation filled me, only to be replaced by disappointment. The blue looked past Nery and focused on a short, brown-haired boy standing right behind her. 

“He says his name is Kareth!” the beaming boy shouted as he hurried to the blue, nearly knocking Nery aside in his excitement. 

She didn’t get up but remained crumpled on the sands, her head bowed, as the boy and dragonet made their way across the sands, toward the other newly Impressed who were eagerly feeding their new hatchlings. 

Nery didn’t have anyone and would need comforting. I winced slightly as I reached the sands and felt their heat penetrate the soles of my boots. 

I paused, wondering what I should say to Nery. What could I say? I had Impressed at my first Hatching and had been too elated to focus on any comforting words given to the rejected Candidates. Still, I would keep my word. Nery would remain here at the Weyr until she had learned enough to transfer to either Harper Hall or Healer Hall, or wherever she was suited. This was something I was going to have to discuss with the Masters, all of who were here at the Hatching. I’d introduce them to Nery and explain what Fereth had seen in her. At least she wouldn’t have to remain a drudge. She should never have been one in the first place. . . 

Another dragonet cry tore me from my reverie. Hadn’t all the dragons Impressed? I’d missed who the queen had selected. . . 

Or had I? 

I turned toward the sound. The little queen had pushed away from the other girl Candidates. Her sleek golden hide shimmered and her eyes whirled red as she moved across the sands. The remaining boys stepped out of her way to let her pass. 

My heart leaped when she spotted Nery and clumsily hurried toward her. The girl didn’t see her; her head was still down, her eyes closed. I wanted to call to her but the words locked in my throat. _Let the dragon decide,_ said Fereth as my thoughts echoed that sentiment. 

The little gold butted her head against Nery’s shoulder. “Leave me alone!” she snapped. I cringed at the harshness of her tone. The dragon’s eyes whirled red with distress. 

_Nery, look up!_ I wanted to call and was relieved when she did. She pushed back wisps of hair and stared up into the dragonet’s desperate eyes. A radiant smile broke across the girl’s face and tears spilled onto her cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion. “Of course I want you! I love you!” The dragonet’s eyes softened to a gentle blue as Nery drew her into her arms. 

I swallowed around my tight throat and felt the wetness of tears on my own face. I still couldn’t move. Memories of my own Impression to Fereth played through my mind. 

_See. We weren’t wrong about her,_ said Fereth. 

“Then I shall get you something to eat,” I heard Nery say as she climbed to her feet. With her eyes still streaming tears but her face wreathed by an elated smile, she started to help the unsteady queen across the sands. 

I hurried toward the pair. Since Nery hadn’t attended any of the Candidate training, she would have to be guided on how to feed, bathe, and oil her new companion, starting now. I welcomed that task. 

Nery’s smile broadened even more when she saw me, an expression that made her beautiful despite the bruise. “She says her name is Zaylith!” she called, her voice trembling with a joy that echoed my own. 

The End


End file.
